Page 133 of Echoes of the Raven
“Come take a break, cousin.” Jago—as well as the others—is sitting against a tree, munching on dry bread. “Get something to eat, then try again. I bet it’ll help.”
Letting my anger build certainly isn’t helping, so I sit next to him, snatch a piece of bread from his hand, and take a bite.
After a moment of sitting in silence, Galen scratches the side of his head. “Um, it’s beginning to look as if… this is a failed endeavor. Perhaps it’s time to count our losses and decide what to do next.”
“I won’t give up so easily,” I shoot back, retransmitting every ounce of the anger his defeatist attitude reignites in me.
He throws his hands up in the air. “Just a suggestion, Princess.”
“Can anyone think of something I could try?” I ask.
“Stand on your head?” The sorcerer suggests.
“Galen,” Korben growls his name in a clear warning.
I jump to my feet. “I don’t need you to defend me, Korben. You know well I can hold my own. Maybe Galen needs to learn that, too.”
“I believe he does,” Korben agrees. “I suggest a rapier duel.”
Glancing at him sideways, I smirk. “Great idea.”
Korben says, “Naturally, magic is forbidden.”
“This seems quite unfair.” Galen begins picking pieces of grass off his pants, looking disinterested.
Korben stands. “I am your king, sorcerer. I have every right to set rules of combat for one of my subjects.”
“I want to watch this.” Jago rushes to the horses and retrieves the rapiers. “Here you go, cousin.” He tosses the weapon, and I snatch it out of the air and strike first position, pointing at Galen’s face.
“En guardia,” I say.
Galen sighs and laboriously gets to his feet. Jago tosses the second rapier at the sorcerer, who fails to catch it. The weapon hits the bushes and embeds itself in their tangled branches.
“I have told you time and again that your big mouth will be the death of you.” Korben sounds amused, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s using this as a distraction from my failure.
“Pick up the sword.” I slash my rapier through the air, making it sing.
Galen disentangles it from the bushes and looks at it as if it’s an unknown device never before seen by human or fae eyes. Looking as dexterous as a newly hatched bird, he raises the weapon and attempts to imitate my pose.
Gently, I touch my blade to his and slide it down its length. The hissing sound senses a thrill up my back. Sparring has always been invigorating to me.
“Prepare to—”
A loud croak fromCuervo cuts me off.
“Treasure,” he says shrilly, leaping from the branch and flying downward.
When he’s halfway to the ground, he does something strange. He hovers in midair for an instant, using short, powerful wing flaps. At the same time, he scratches the air with his talons as if he’s trying to snatch something from nothing. Did he see a bug he wants to eat? I begin to think that’s what he’s doing, when he lands on the ground and begins walking in circles while he looks up, turning his head this way and that.
There’s a sudden glint in his eye. He jumps into the air again and performs the same maneuver.
“Now you have truly gone crazy, chicken,” Jago says. “Couldn’t you just get a hound like regular people, Val?”
It’s unlike Cuervo to ignore Jago’s jabs, but he is too intent, flying at the same spot over and over again and clawing at it as if he has, indeed, gone mad.
I put the sword aside and approach Cuervo. “Hey, what’s the matter?”
He flutters to the ground, looking exhausted and frazzled. “Treasure,” he offers as an explanation.
